


neon lights and leg warmers

by gly13



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Arcades, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Roller Rink AU, no angst just boys in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 07:47:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29772930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gly13/pseuds/gly13
Summary: In hindsight, Renjun thinks, it was probably a mistake to suggest all their friends chip in to buy Jaemin roller skates. Even if he had hinted (read: begged and pouted) for them constantly in the months leading up to his birthday.
Relationships: Huang Ren Jun/Na Jaemin
Comments: 3
Kudos: 63





	neon lights and leg warmers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [princepixel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/princepixel/gifts).



> hello!! this fic is dedicated to pix!! in the fic it is jaemin's birthday but irl it is pix's so everyone go wish them a happy birthday !!  
> pix u are lovely and kind and wonderful and i really hope u enjoy this fic <333
> 
> um apparently 'shortalls' are short overalls? i've never heard that word before but couldn't find another one so yeah  
> take a shot every time i use the word neon lmao
> 
> [catch the vibes x](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6jOftBXBKGLSI97ma7u06G?si=B_vNaEXbRfWVdLX5b4QRzw)
> 
> enjoy!!

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope,” Jaemin pops the p.

“Then you’re insane.”

Jaemin’s grin grows impossibly wider, teeth on show and downright wicked. He does it on purpose, the idiot. Though, Renjun might be an idiot too, considering he’s in love with him. “Maybe.”

“Did you just already have all of this in your wardrobe?”

Jaemin laughs. “Is that really such a surprise?”

Renjun looks at his outfit in the mirror and thinks about that. Really thinks about it.

A neon yellow crop-top stuffed under blue denim shortalls. Only one of the straps is done up over his right shoulder, the other discarded artfully across his chest; Jaemin had fussed over getting it at the ‘right angle’ for at least twenty minutes, shushing Renjun’s protesting that it would change the second he moved anyway. Underneath the shorts are orange leggings. Orange leggings. Also neon.

The outfit is, in a word, an eyesore.

And then there’s the hair. Jaemin has braided glittery thread into random sections of the dark brown strands, twisting them in and securing them with tiny colourful rubber bands. They’ll be a bitch to get out later, but Jaemin had looked so happy putting them in that Renjun didn’t have the heart to stop him.

After the hour-long struggle with the tiny plaits, Jaemin had forced him into a chair and spent yet another hour on his make-up. Renjun had been wary at first, when Jaemin had bust out a neon green eyeshadow palette but it had been, Renjun admits, worth it.

Vivid yellows, oranges, and pinks blended over one another and into the corner of his eye. It looks a little like an over-saturated sunset spread out across his eyelid. It’s definitely the brightest and most obnoxious Renjun’s eyes have ever been. Jaemin, ever the prodigy, had only taken one try with the eyeliner, until a graceful white line arched over Renjun’s crease, tying all the colours into a neatly sharpened wing.

Maybe not surprising that Jaemin had all this lying around, but definitely a little worrying. And to top it all off… 

“You know they’re called leg warmers, right?” 

Jaemin hums from where he’s busy adjusting one of the many multi-coloured plastic butterfly clips in his hair.

“Then what the fuck are they doing on my arms?”

Jaemin snickers and moves his hands to run up and down said leg warmers. “Bringing your stylistic level up, obviously.”

Renjun rolls his eyes.

“Come on, Injunnie. You promised,” he’s pouting and that’s unfair because he knows Renjun ‒ and the entire world ‒ is weak to it. “And you look super pretty. You always do. Besides,” Jaemin continues, not giving Renjun enough time to fluster, “it could be worse.”

Renjun’s eyes fall to Jaemin’s own hot pink net tutu over jeans and matching light green fairy wings and is inclined to agree.

He sighs. Jaemin should look like a toddler or at the very least a reject member of the Winx Club but instead he looks stunning. Ethereal. Like an actual living fairy has somehow spawned in Renjun’s tip of a dorm room. 

Renjun looks at Jaemin, decked out in coloured glitter from head to toe, then looks at where his engineering textbook and all his study materials are slumped against the wall, where he’d thrown them in a fit of frustration earlier, and has the bizarre urge to start cleaning.

He tells him as much and thinks that, under the sparkly pink blush, Jaemin is probably blushing for real. Renjun doesn’t really say stuff like that often, because being disgustingly loud in love is Jaemin’s speciality but it’s Jaemin's birthday and all the bright colours have probably short-circuited his brain so he thinks he’s excused.

“Okay,” Renjun says, tired of looking at his unchanging, offensively intense clothes and ready to ignore what he looks like for the rest of the day. “Let’s get going then.”

Jaemin squeals and Renjun feels his heart do a little loop-the-loop in his chest.

  
  
  


The roller rink is loud.

Renjun isn’t sure why the loudness comes as a surprise, only that it does. It looks exactly how he had expected it to look, which isn’t much of a shock considering that his only exposure to the rink had been the pictures Jaemin had shoved in his face while gushing about it in the months leading up to his birthday.

The pictures had braced him for the bright neon flashing signs and obnoxious kaleidoscope lighting and shitty glistening disco ball and more claw machines than Renjun thought legal. The pictures had not braced him for the onslaught of early 2000’s pop music and scream-laughter and digital arcade noises that awaited them the second Jaemin opened the door.

Renjun is genuinely blown away by it, feels the wall of sound like a slap to the face. Jaemin basks in it, beaming with a grin so bright it puts all the lighting in the building to shame.

They step up to the welcome desk hand in hand and Renjun pays for two tickets and also rents a pair of skates for himself. Jaemin’s are in his rucksack, wrapped up in their own little case they’d come in. They sign waivers so they won’t sue the place, even as Renjun feels uncomfortable about it and Jaemin laughs off any worry.

Jaemin hasn’t stopped moving since they got in, his eyes and head darting in a new direction every second as he takes in everything there is to see. He looks like an excitable puppy and Renjun can’t help but smile as he takes Jaemin by the hand and leads him over to the row of lockers at the side. 

People are staring, like they always are when Jaemin’s out. Renjun doesn’t blame them normally, but especially not today. Not with the wings and tutu and holding his leg-warmer cloaked hand.

Even still, Renjun tightens his grip on Jaemin’s hand, pulls him closer, down, until their lips are pressing against each other. He closes his eyes and the sounds fade to nothing and his world is replaced by the feeling of Jaemin relaxing against him, still smiling, even as they kiss.

“Happy birthday,” Renjun says for probably the hundredth time as he opens his eyes and is met with the neon angel that is Na Jaemin.

They sit down on the bench, painted a dark blue that makes it almost invisible, and get to putting on their skates.

Renjun’s are clunky and ugly and he’s sure to have blisters in a couple hours but it’s hardly a big sacrifice when Jaemin has not stopped grinning for even a second.

Renjun fumbles with the plastic buckles on his skates and then watches as Jaemin deftly laces up his own.

Jaemin’s skates are white with bright pink laces and sole and fucking expensive. Renjun had gotten all their friends to chip in for them and, once they’d arrived, he’d broken out his old marker pens and they’d each drawn something ‒ or a few somethings ‒ on them, until they were covered in odd little doodles designed to make Jaemin laugh. 

Jaemin is far more sentimental then he is materialistic, so he’d been delighted upon unwrapping them and then he’d started tearing up.

He’d expected the roller skates, after the long period of begging and multiple PowerPoint presentations, but he hadn’t expected the personalisation. The many poorly drawn, demon-esque bunnies with excessively big teeth, the Moomin on the heel, the mismatched trails of hearts and stars around the edge of the shoe.

Renjun tears his eyes away from tracing the drawing with his eyes and looks around, face distorting into a frown when he can’t find what he’s looking for.

“Where are the helmets? Were we meant to bring our own?”

“Do you really think I would spend that long on my hair if I had to wear a helmet over it?”

“Yes,” Renjun answers without a second thought, and then actually computes Jaemin’s words. “Wait. You mean we don’t have to wear helmets?”

Jaemin gestures at the many people around them, whizzing around the rink and playing whack-a-mole with roller skates and no helmets that Renjun hadn’t noticed before simply because he hadn’t looked at much besides Jaemin.

Renjun frowns. “No wonder they made us promise not to sue: this is a health and safety nightmare.”

“It’s not a nightmare; it’s a dream come true!” Jaemin is ecstatic as he stands up and doesn’t even wobble a little.

He puts their stuff in a locker, tucks the key into the front pocket of Renjun’s shortalls. He holds out his hands and Renjun takes them, lets himself be pulled up and then tightens his grip because he feels very unstable. Jaemin smiles down at him, kindly not commenting on how Renjun must be crushing the bones in his hand and so awfully fond that Renjun feels his face heat up almost unbearably.

“Come on,” Renjun says through gritted teeth. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

Jaemin laughs and very nicely helps Renjun over to the rink. When they make it to the edge, Renjun braces himself for the move off of patterned carpet and onto hardwood flooring. It looks slippery.

“It won’t be that bad,” Jaemin starts to say but is cut off by someone on the far side of the rink falling very dramatically and very loudly onto the floor with an audible cry of pain.

Renjun feels his right eye twitch and glares at Jaemin as best he can. “You were saying?”

Jaemin doesn’t even have the decency to look a little sheepish. “You’ll be fine.” His hands fit themselves around Renjun’s waist and he pushes ever so gently, just enough to have Renjun rolling forward a little. “I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

Renjun’s heart flips like a pancake.

“How are you so good at this?”

“Natural grace,” Jaemin shoots back, like he’d been expecting the question.

“Are you saying‒”

“That you don’t have natural grace?” Renjun can  _ hear  _ Jaemin’s smirk. “Not at all.”

Renjun scowls. “It’s the wings,” he says. “They’re giving you magical abilities. Or balance. Or both.”

“Of course,” Jaemin hums, sounding like he’s appeasing a child. “That must be it.”

Half of Renjun’s wheels are on the rink now and he’s certain he can feel himself falling already. “You won’t let go?” He blurts out.

“Of you? Never.”

Renjun takes a deep breath, reminds himself that it’s Jaemin’s birthday, that Jaemin has been wanting this for months, until all the scary thoughts of falling are funnelled into thoughts about Jaemin’s chest pressed against his back, Jaemin’s breath hot in his hair, Jaemin, Jaemin, Jaemin. Nothing seems quite so scary anymore.

Jaemin continues to push him forwards, muttering softly in his ear. “It’s just physics, Injunnie. You’re good at that. Gravity and all that. Newton’s laws.” Renjun does his best not to snort and before he notices, they’re both stood on the rink, side by side.

Jaemin’s hands disappear from his waist but Renjun doesn’t even have the time to start complaining before Jaemin is holding one of his hands, tight like a lifeline.

“Figured this would be easier than me clinging to you from behind like a parasite.”

“You’re always a parasite no matter what.”

“Yeah, but you love this parasite.”

“Unfortunately.”

Jaemin squeezes his hand. “Let’s get skating. Parasite and his boyfriend take the roller rink!”

They go slow at first, and Renjun feels a little bad because Jaemin would clearly be able to go faster on his own. But Jaemin is laughing so loudly he can be heard over the Black Eyed Peas and Renjun can’t feel anything but happy.

And it gets easier. His feet ache, but his heart feels light in his chest and Jaemin doesn’t let go of his hand for a second and soon they’re zooming all over the rink, barrelling into the side and laughing instead of wincing at the collisions. 

Renjun can see why Jaemin wanted to do this so badly, as they twirl around and groove to old-school Katy Perry. He thinks he might have to get a pair of skates for himself.

He doesn’t know how much time has passed when they pull up to the side and lean on the barrier, only that they’re both sweaty beyond belief and panting heavily. His forearms are unbearably hot and sticky but he doesn’t think for a moment about telling Jaemin that. Renjun resists the urge to push a hand through his hair and away from his forehead, lest he ruin Jaemin’s hard work.

Jaemin leans back with his elbows against the barrier and fixes Renjun with a thoughtful look. Renjun raises his eyebrows at him, too out of breath to voice his question but he knows Jaemin will understand; he always does.

He watches as Jaemin’s eyes trail over his face, over where the eyeshadow he worked so hard on must surely be smudged, over the arch of his nose, and the expanse of his brow. Renjun can’t find it in himself to feel self-conscious, despite how powerful his gaze is. Because while Jaemin’s gaze is intense, it’s also so loving. It’s that look that makes Renjun feel like he’s the only person in the world.

“You’re so beautiful, Injun,” Jaemin says eventually.

Jaemin lifts one hand to Renjun’s face, his thumb grazing delicately along Renjun’s cheekbone. Renjun leans into the contact. Jaemin’s eyes are wide and full of so much awe it feels misplaced, mouth slightly parted and tempting, and touch so reverent it’s as though he doesn’t believe any of this is real.

Renjun understands. Renjun knows how that feels.

He leans forwards, closes the gap between them as his eyes slip closed. And when they kiss, it’s familiar and warm and electric all at once. Renjun burns everywhere Jaemin is touching him, everywhere Jaemin has touched him. He burns inside and out and everything is orange and red and gold.

Jaemin breaks the kiss first but doesn’t pull away. Instead, he rests his lips against Renjun’s, lets their foreheads touch, smiles mischievously.

“Bet I can beat you at air hockey.”

Renjun grins like an idiot and feels competitiveness fill him, hot and fierce. “Oh, you’re on, Na.”

  
  


Renjun feels his leg give way under him, his roller skate pulling one of his feet too far until he’s in a split, grappling onto the air hockey table for any semblance of balance. The tell-tale sound of conceding a goal fills his ears. He pulls himself up by the elbows, hooking them into the surface of the table and hauling his entire body weight with all his strength.

“That’s not fair,” he says indignantly, glaring at Jaemin who is so obviously trying not to burst into laughter. “My skates betrayed me.”

“Not my problem, love,” Jaemin shouts back, looking far too gleeful for someone who lost the first game. “Should have thought about that before you challenged me.”

Renjun narrows his eyes. “You’re going to regret that.”

  
  


“You suck,” Renjun heckles, giggling as Jaemin sinks yet another skee-ball into the zero points hole.

Jaemin pouts, offended, but doesn’t try to argue because he knows he doesn’t have much of a leg to stand on.

“At this rate, we’re not going to have enough tickets to even get a shitty keychain.”

“I’d like to see you do better.”

Renjun takes the ball offered to him, presses a kiss to Jaemin’s cheek and turns to face the machine.

“It’s just physics, Nana,” he says. “Angles and all that. Spheres.”

  
  


There are several big signs around and on the DDR machine that read:  _ DO NOT WEAR ROLLER SKATES WHILE PLAYING THIS GAME!!!  _ in all bold, block capitals.

“Hey, Jaemin?” Renjun says as Jaemin gives the game its coins.

“Hm?”

“Do you think we’re supposed to take our roller skates off for this or no?”

Jaemin stands up to his full height and inspects the game, drumming his fingers against a bright yellow sign which reads  _ TAKE OFF YOUR SKATES BEFORE PLAYING!  _ in black lettering. He looks thoughtful.

“I’m not sure,” he says. “They probably could have done something to make that clearer.”

“How about one of us wears the skates, and the other takes them off and we see who does better?”

Jaemin looks at Renjun, too impressed for it to be fake. “Renjun, you and your big wonderful brain.”

Renjun rolls his eyes and sits down on the platform to begin taking off his skates, grateful for the opportunity to stretch his toes.

“Dibs no skates,” he says.

Jaemin sits down, too and begins unlacing his. “Unfair,” he whines, “it’s my birthday.”

Renjun sticks his tongue out at his boyfriend. “And I called dibs.” 

He stands up and Jaemin follows not shortly after.

“Song?”

“5,6,7,8, obviously.”

“Too scared to face me at Cotton-Eyed Joe, huh?”

“You wish.”

  
  


By some sort of witchcraft, they manage to wrangle up enough tickets for a tiny Moomin plushie.

They stop on the edge of the arcade and argue about who gets to keep it. In the two years of their relationship, Renjun has gotten better at resisting the pout and sparkly eyes combo. That does not mean he is not still very very weak to the lethal combo. And he really does love Moomin.

“It’s your birthday,” Renjun protests, albeit weakly.

Jaemin smiles, soft. “Exactly. So you're not allowed to complain.” It's a miracle Renjun can hear him, over the din of the arcade but, he thinks, he might just be naturally tuned into Jaemin's frequency. Able to hear him against all the odds. “You’ve got me so much already, Injunnie. Just take this and let him remind you of me whenever I’m not there.”

Renjun doesn’t need reminders, not when Jaemin is oftentimes all he thinks about.

“Please, Injunnie. As my birthday wish.”

“You’re not meant to tell people your birthday wish, idiot,” Renjun says, even as he reaches out and takes Moomin, turning him over in his hands, feeling the plush beneath his fingertips. “If you do that it doesn’t come true.”

“You’re not a person, though,” Jaemin says, barely suppressing a smile and Renjun braces himself for whatever’s coming. “You’re my everything.”

_ You’re my everything, too,  _ Renjun thinks.

“Disgusting,” he says. And then adds, quieter, “I love you.”

Jaemin smiles somehow wider, until it grows into a full-bodied laugh, giddy and gorgeous. 

Tiredness makes Renjun’s eyes shift out of focus and the crisp neon lighting of the arcade blurs into abstract balls of colour suspended in the dark blue shadows behind Jaemin’s figure.

Renjun stares at how his boyfriend stands out from the background, in clear definition and the rest of the room slows to a stop. Like this is some freeze-frame out of a movie, with Jaemin’s head thrown backwards in laughter and multi-coloured lighting all around him. Picturesque. Stunning.

Renjun wants to kiss him so badly. So he does.

**Author's Note:**

> aaa i haven't written renmin in so long omg i missed them
> 
> thank u for reading !! if u enjoyed pls leave kudos and comments they make me so happy !!
> 
> once again, happy birthday pix! ily mwah!!
> 
> [twt](https://twitter.com/whatisanult)  
> [cc](https://curiouscat.me/whatisanult)


End file.
